


Blushing Red

by fictorium



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Convenience Store, Alternate Universe - WINE STORE OWNER KARA, Cat likes wine, F/F, Wine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-11 23:22:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13534704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictorium/pseuds/fictorium
Summary: There's a new store stocked with wine opening in Cat's exclusive neighborhood. Now she simply has to meet the person bold enough to try that.





	Blushing Red

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SupergaySupercat (octoplods)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/octoplods/gifts).



> Prompted by @xxtorchxx, brainstormed with @bridgetteirish and @reginalovesemma, and finished as a gift for @supergaysupercat. Sorry I'm the last to the party on this one!

Cat doesn’t notice much on her drive home. The beauty of having a personal chauffeur 24/7 is that she can grab these rare quiet moments to rest, even if work is still open on her lap while she dozes. It’s always on the last turn before her building that she wakes, a commuter subconsciously programmed never to miss her stop.

It’s a quiet Thursday night when she notices that the discreet shuttering has finally come off what used to be a fine Italian deli. Priced out of the neighborhood, Cat had been sorry to see the family go. Knowing she was part of the gentrifying problem, she still missed their double-shot lattes and the cold cuts that had gotten her through many a deadline and merger. To say nothing of their perfect _cannoli_. 

“Thank you,” she says to Markus, her driver for the week. He looks startled at the acknowledgment as he holds the door open. “Do you know what’s happening with the store over there?”

She owns a floor in a more modest building next to her own, providing accommodation for her staff who would otherwise be priced out to the outskirts of the city. It’s why she’s able to keep her staff for so long, save for assistants. Not bringing CatCo home with her, literally, has been a hard-won lesson over the years. 

“Not for sure, ma’am,” Markus answers. “I was hoping it might be a new gym.” Because all six-foot-five-of-pure-muscle clearly needs the extra workout. “But Ella said something about a liquor store.”

Cat wrinkles her nose. Not many liquor stores have ever increased the profile of a neighborhood. Then again, it might save some of those judgmental looks from her cook and housekeeper when she sends them out for a restock. That’s the end of her thoughts on the matter anyway, because the moment she steps off the elevator into her penthouse, Carter is running down the hall to greet her.

“Sweetheart.” She leans into his enthusiastic hug, grateful as ever to be the one person he shows this much ready affection to. “Let mommy pour a glass of wine and then you can tell me all about your day.”

***

A full week has passed before Cat thinks of the store again, the car stopping in just the right spot to allow her to stare for a moment. There’s a sign, hand-painted if Cat is any judge, but the craftmanship is flawless. She’ll have to get a number when it comes to redecorating the master bedroom. Fire Falls Wine. Well. Not exactly inspired, but at least it’s not some hideous chain punching above its weight.

Curious name, though. Not that Cat cares, not with a major acquisition on the East Coast taking up her entire week, so she lets the driver take her right into the underground parking lot this time. She’ll find out about the strange new store later.

And later it is, though only an hour or less. She sits, glass of chablis in hand, and scours the internet for this wine shop. No real web presence, which is unusual in itself. All the same, there are glowing reviews in any number of external sources. A mastery of domestic grape yields, a nose for the undersung local vintage, and an international catalogue that defies belief, if these random commenters are to be believed.

All Cat can find on the owner is one _Danvers, K._ listed on the official documentation. The air of mystery appeals to the dormant journalist in her, the one who rarely gets to chase a story when there’s paperwork to sign and more money to make for her money. Her feline namesake would be wiggling her ass at the prospect of a new human interest tale to uncover. 

But Cat is rarely so undignified, and she returns to the more pressing work at hand. 

***

Three days it takes her resolve to crack, at the first sign of life from the slowly rejuvenating store. Where the deli before had huge windows, wooden shutters adorn the building now. The paint in deep purples and delicate silver shouldn’t look as bold and classic as it does. When the car stops short, negotiating traffic, Cat taps Markus on the shoulder and asks to be let out right there. She could go home and change first, but the front door is slightly ajar, and she knows better than not to seize the opportunity.

Cat realizes she’s actually nervous as she lays her hand on the wrought iron handle of the open door. Well, when’s the last time that happened?

***

Stepping inside happens a moment later, because Cat has rarely had the patience to hesitate. She’s expecting packing crates and debris. Instead the space has been lined with good quality shelving - heavy wood, rich and dark in color - most of which are already laden with bottles of wine. 

The lighting leaves something to be desired, barely a step up from candlelight. Much like a network drama trying to appear mean and moody. Cat finds herself squinting at labels in the dark, only to find most of them have been covered with some very expensive paper. 

“Looking for something?” Says a voice right behind her. Cat didn’t hear a single footstep, and she jumps accordingly, almost fumbling the bottle of wine. 

“Some natural light wouldn’t hurt.” She recovers quickly, setting the bottle back on its shelf. “Or a label that’s actually visible. With how much I tend to drop on a bottle of wine, I like to know what I’m getting.”

“That’s not quite how it works here.”

“You don’t sell wine to people who want to buy wine? Because you’re giving off entirely the wrong impression in that case.”

“I recommend wine based on the person and the occasion. This isn’t a service for snobs who just want to brag about the price tag on the bottle.”

“ _Service_?” Cat repeats back as she turns to see a tall, athletic blonde in front of her. The jeans are pleasantly tight, the white shirt is well-tailored. Only a frumpy cardigan ruins the overall impression, but it matches the serious glasses and the long braid. “That’s an old-fashioned notion. Are you the _Danvers, K_. responsible for all of this?”

“Kara, yes.” She extends a hand like she’s just been taught the custom. “Business has been doing so well in Midvale, it seemed like a good time to try out National City. This is a big wine city, but then you probably already knew that.”

“Cat Grant,” she replies as their hands press together for far longer than is necessary. Cat smirks as recognition dawns and creamy cheeks flush with embarrassment. “I’m not surprised you didn’t recognize me. I think only moles can see at this light level.”

“It’s actually called ambience and-”

“Go on then,” Cat interrupts, waving towards the assorted bottles. “Impress me with one of your Jedi mind tricks. I’ll know if you’re just picking something obscure to impress me.”

“Well, you won’t know until you get it home and reveal the actual label,” Kara corrects, as Cat advances on her, almost pinning Kara against a huge dark oak barrel that also serves as a table of sorts.

“All this,” Cat gestures to the space around them. “Wouldn’t it be quicker to just blindfold your customers as they walk in?” 

“I think that’s a lot of trust for a first meeting, don’t you?” 

“I meant-”

“The store is dark, I get it. But what next? Tying your wrists so you can’t pick up the bottles? A girl could get ideas.”

“Ideas? I doubt you could handle most of my ideas. In the meantime, I’m simply looking for a fruity red to go with my steak tonight. Unless that’s too much to ask?” She reaches out, smooths the collar of the crisp white button down where it’s not sitting quite right. Conscious that she’s not exactly being subtle, Cat takes a step back. If this Kara is going to play at her level, she’s going to have to step up to the plate.

“That is such an obvious trap,” Kara sighs, but she’s practically bouncing on her heels at the challenge. “And I’ll tell you why in a minute. But why don’t we start at the start? I feel like we’ve skipped a few steps, Ms Grant.”

“Call me Cat. Titles are so formal for a space this intimate, _Kara._ ” 

There’s room enough for Kara to pass without them ever touching now, and yet she quite deliberately puts her hands on Cat’s upper arms to steer her out of the way. “You probably think I’m going straight for something South American. Not so much. And fruity? I think you’re trying to play me. I’m right, aren’t I?”

And god, that smile. It’s lighting up what the dim bulbs can’t, and Cat isn’t used to just openly staring like this. Not without her signature sunglasses, anyway.

“Play you? Well, you’d have to check my wine cellar to find out.”

“Why do I get the feeling your cellar is bigger than my store?” Kara asks.

“Because you’re right, though god knows how. Weren’t we-”

Cat has moved in close again, but Kara is already in motion, no doubt in search of some obvious Barolo or other that probably hasn’t been unpacked yet.

Skittish this one. Panicking at close quarters, but then she’s the one bringing up light bondage out of nowhere.

“Now, this has to breathe,” Kara scolds as she starts uncorking the bottle there in the middle of the store. “I’m sure you have an aerator too, but be gentle with this one.”

“I can be gentle,” Cat says, just a bit too playful. “But how do you know I even want that one?”

“Trust me,” Kara replies. “It’s on me, a welcome gift to my first customer. If it’s not the nicest red you’ve ever had with steak, well, I guess you don’t have to come back.”

“Something like this requires immediate feedback,” Cat argues. “And since my chef can cook for two as easily as one, why don’t you come take a break and have dinner with me?”

“My official opening is tomorrow.”

“As in… not tonight? I’m sure the cartoon birds and mice who dress you each day will help with the last-minute touches.”

“Hey!”

“Come on, wine girl,” Cat plucks the bottle from her hand. “My place is barely a minute from here. Let me welcome you to the neighborhood, since I own most of it.”

Kara raises an eyebrow at the bragging, but she grabs her keys from the counter and follows Cat out of the store. It takes barely a moment to lock up, and Cat sees the excuse to lead her by the arm. All that lifting crates must be quite a workout, because the bicep under Cat’s squeezing fingers is posing an imminent threat to the seams of Kara’s shirt. 

“Listen, it’s already after ten-” Kara tries one last time as the doorman ushers them into Cat’s building. 

“Ten-fifteen, by my watch.”

“You’ve probably had a long day, if my wine and I are imposing on you, I can take a rain check…”

Cat summons the elevator and swipes her card for the penthouse. She doesn’t lead Kara, this has to be a choice. But there’s an invisible timer ticking down until those doors begin to close.

Cat raises her eyebrow.

The doors whirr into life.

By the time they close, Kara has bundled herself into the elevator, backing Cat handily against the rear wall in the process.

“Well,” Cat says for both of them, setting the loosely-corked bottle of red on the floor. “I’ll take that as a-”

Kara kisses her in another surge of motion, hot and maybe just a little desperate in the beginning. Her hands are steady as they settle on Cat’s hips over her black pencil skirt, pulling her close.

“Has anyone ever told you,” Kara enquires between open-mouthed kisses, the kind that linger, “That you’re kind of infuriating?”

“Hot, isn’t it?” Cat isn’t about to stop preening now. The penthouse doors slide open and Cat leads Kara by the hand, stooping only to collect her wine. They meander through the kitchen, Cat pausing only to nod at her chef and signal two for dinner. By the time they’re seated at the patio table out on the balcony, the sizzle of prime beef hitting a hot pan fills the air. 

“I actually thought dinner was kind of a ruse,” Kara admits, uncorking the bottle to let it finish breathing. “Glasses? Or shall we pass it back and forth like teenagers who just robbed a liquor store.”

“Tell me you’re speaking from experience,” Cat insists. “I had you pegged as a total goody two-shoes, at least until I found out how well you kiss. Speaking of…” She leans over, taking her time about this kiss. Leaving Kara faintly stunned, Cat slips back inside to retrieve glasses. No Carter to worry about tonight, they’ve already spoken and he’s safely tucked up at his dad’s. Chef will disappear the moment the plates are laid on the table. It’s the perfect arrangement, and Cat finds herself excited in a way she hasn’t let herself for too long.

Kara’s still a little thunderstruck when Cat rejoins her, and they sit quietly for the few minutes until food is served. 

“Thank you, Julian,” Cat says as he takes his leave, and waits for Kara to show off the wine she’s so damn sure about. 

On first sniff it’s a little surprising, bolder than Cat would have guessed. Why trust anything but her tastebuds though, when the real test lies there? She sips delicately and gives Kara the benefit of the doubt. Oh, and it’s worth it. The dark red is hiding hints of coffee, possibly chocolate. It’s not a million miles from wines Cat has drunk before, but she knows this one is definitely a first. She sets her glass down and nods in acknowledgment. 

“Fine. It’s not _bad._ ” Anyone at CatCo would kill for praise so effusive, and Kara lights up as though she knows that. 

“Not bad, for a simple Syrah. I own part of the vineyard, so it’s kind of a personal contribution, if you like.”

“California?” Cat frowns. It doesn’t taste like anything local.

“The Rhône Valley,” Kara clarifies. “I didn’t only live in Midvale, you know. I had a whole life before that.”

“I’d like to hear about it sometime,” Cat says, surprised by how much she means it. She raises her glass to clink against Kara’s own. “But now the real test is with the steak. Let’s see if you last, wine girl.”

“Oh, I last,” Kara assures her, a mischievous glint in her eye under the soft balcony lights. “If you eat up, I’ll show you just how long.”

Cat enjoys the shiver down her spine at the bravado, and for once does exactly as asked without a fight. 


End file.
